


Lead Case

by Eromancery



Category: Vast Error
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eromancery/pseuds/Eromancery





	Lead Case

She walked into the room like a knife enters a body: Swift, cold, and with a high chance of bloodshed. My eyes traveled up her body, from the smooth black carapace of her legs, to the sensible black of her suit, to the cold black of her eyes. 

“You’re Turkin?” She asked. 

“>([t#ats w#at it says on my door]”

I knew who she was. She was known as the Bishop, although she was actually a pawn. The Dealer had pointed her out to me a few weeks back. When I asked him about her name, his response was simple. When she enters a room, everyone starts praying.  
I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk. If the soles of my shoes impressed her, she didn’t show it. 

“>([so w#at can i do for you?]” 

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder before answering,  
“You’re in the detective business now, right? I’ve got a job for you.” 

A recent stakeout against a rival gang has taught me that I was pretty good at watching people, and I had decided to share my newfound talent with the masses. For a price, of course.   
I raised an eyebrow. 

>([w#at sort of job?]“ 

"A friend of mine has gone missing. I need you to find him.” 

“>([someone goes missing in t#is place?]” I let out a low chuckle. “>([ maam im sorry but odds are your friend is deader than a rook in a minefield. but dont worry i #ave a friend on prospit w#os a miracle worker w#en it comes to taxidermy. #e can get your friend stit#ed up wit#in a week and give you a wonderful keepsake to remember your friend by]” 

Bishop stared at me and I felt the temperature drop. Without a word, she turned around and began walking out of my office. 

“>([alrig#t alrig#t]” I said, “>([does your friend have a name?]” 

“Rook,” she spoke without turning. “Meet me at the Deep Blue. We’ll talk more there.” 

With that, she left. 

 

The Deep Blue was one of the most popular bars on the moon. There was always a crowd there, if not for the drinks then for the gambling. It was also one of the only bars on the moon the Dead Shufflers didn’t own. I hated the place.   
Bishop was easy to find. The bar was packed with Dersites (and the occasional Prospitian) drowning their sorrows, except for a small area around a single carapacian. 

“>([t#e party seems to hate you]” I said, sidling up next to her. 

“The party is smart.” 

“>([unlike me?]” 

“I’m starting to have my doubts.” She signaled the bartender, “two checkmates.” 

Specialty cocktails. I can’t stand them. I steeled myself, took a sip from my drink and said “>([so tell me about rook]” 

“Rook’s a friend. A business partner,” Bishop said. “I’ve known him for years. It’s not like him to just disappear like this.” 

“>([business partner?]” I asked. 

Bishop shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I briefly saw the outline of a sawed-off shotgun beneath her suit.  
“It’s a territory thing. Rook and I wanted our own section of town to control.”

A gang, in nicer words. In any other place it would be illegal, but Derse’s laws focused on regulating what could actually be regulated. 

“>([i see. can you describe #is p#ysical appearance? #ard to find someone ive never seen]” 

I took another sip of my drink. 

“Well, he’s big. Really big. That’s where the name comes from, he’s almost the size of a rook.” 

Big. Wasn’t much to go off of, but it was something. When I thought about it, that description sounded vaguely familiar. Had I seen Rook before? 

“>([do you #ave #is code?] I asked. 

Bishop nodded and pulled out a photograph. I pocketed it. Bishop downed the rest of her drink and stood. I followed her to one of the card tables. 

"Do you play, Mr. Turkin? I need something to take my mind off of all this,” She said. 

“>([ive been known to dabble]” 

“Excellent. I’ll deal.”

We sat, and she dealt. I looked at my hand. A royal flush. Bishop looked at me. 

"Got any jacks?” 

I smiled like a pirhana. 

“>([go fis#]” 

 

When I left the bar(several boonbucks richer thanks to Bishop’s subpar cheating skills), I decided to do what every great leader has done when faced with a challenge: delegate. I called up the Defrauding Dealer and asked him if he knew anyone named Rook. He told me that he knew several rooks, but asked why I would want that info, since we already had contacts in both armies that were of a much higher rank. He also asked why I was still playing at this detective stuff, and mentioned that it was taking all of his effort preventing the Sharper from executing heists that would most likely leave everyone dead and that the other two members were of no help, since they couldn’t think their way out of a paper bag, not to mention he’s still cleaning up last week’s shootout.   
I clarified that I meant a Dersite named Rook and not an actual rook, and assured him that I’d resume my position in the Shufflers as soon as I finished this case.   
He asked if I had any pictures. I replied that I did and that I’d get them to him as soon as possible. He said he understood, and hung up. 

 

I decided to begin my search. The bartender at the Deep Blue had seemed familiar with Bishop, like she was a regular. It stood to reason that he might know Rook as well. It was a lead, at least. 

The bar was less crowded at this time of night, the promise of an alcoholic buzz replaced with the the threats of a hangover.   
I moved quickly, stepping over a few unconscious pawns, to where the bartender was wiping down a glass.

“What can I get you?” He asked, without looking up from his task. 

“>([information]” I said, “>([im looking for someone named rook]” 

“Don’t know him.” 

“>([big guy? code kinda looks like two bears #ig# fiving?]” 

The bartender just shrugged. 

I sighed. “>([bis#op sent me]” 

The bartender looked up at me.  
“In that case, I last saw him about a week ago. Wouldn’t stop talking until I put a couple of drinks into him.”

“>([talking about w#at?] I asked. 

"He was pretty incomprehensible. Kept babbling about ghosts,” the bartender scoffed. 

“>([g#osts?]” I leaned forward. 

“Yeah. Kept talking about what he did to Casper and they were gonna kill him over it.” 

A cold feeling filled my gut. I had a suspicion of what had happened to Rook, and I had the feeling that Bishop wasn’t going to be very happy if I was right. 

“>([t#ats all the questions i #ave. t#anks for t#e #elp]” I stood, reaching into my pocket. 

The bartender grunted and returned to cleaning his glass. 

I pulled out my phone and called the Dealer. I voiced my suspicions and he confirmed them. I told him to gather the Shufflers and head to where the body was. Next, I called Bishop. 

“>([bis#op? its turkin. i know w#ere rook is. meet me at t#e kasparov]

 

Bishop was waiting for me when I arrived. I motioned to the building behind her. 

 

”>([w#at do you know about t#is place?] I asked. 

Bishop shrugged. “Not much,” she said, “it’s the Deep Blue’s main competitor. No idea who owns it.” 

I motioned for her to follow and headed inside. 

“>([#eres w#at #appendd as far as i can tell]” I pushed through the crowds in the bar, heading towards the back. “>([rook was in a gang. t#e same gang t#at owns t#e deep blue. last week t#ere was a s#ootout #ere. one started by a gang trying to take territory]” 

I threw open the door at the back of the bar, revealing a descending staircase. 

“>([rook managed to escape. for a w#ile at least. eventually the people w#o own t#is place caug#t #im]” 

We had reached the end of the staircase. Another door awaited us. 

“>([t#ey caug#t #im and did t#is]” 

I opened the door. 

Carapacians are tough. They have both endo and exoskeletons, and just killing one requires a significant amount of effort.   
That being said, whoever eviscerated Rook did a damn good job. I’d never have to wonder what a carapacian’s organs looked like again. 

I turned to Bishop. 

“>([i really am sorry for t#is]” 

And then I slugged her in the face. 

You never forget the look on someone’s face when they wake up about to be fed into a wood chipper. Bishop was no exception. 

“>([i bet youre wondering w#ats going on. its simple. i cant let you live. you #ave a reputation of being pretty smart and it was only a matter of time before you put two and two toget#er and realized t#at t#e kasparov is owned by t#e dead s#ufflers. t#en one day im walking down t#e street and you blow my brains out wit# t#is cute little side piece of yours]” 

I lifted her shotgun and showed it to her. 

“Wh-what?” She struggled to speak. 

“>([s#ut up]” I kicked her in the side, “>([im monologuing #ere]” 

She coughed, blood dotting her mouth. 

“>([so im just gonna feed you into t#is mac#ine #ere and be done wit# you. t#is is my #ouse miss bis#op]” I said, “>([and t#e #ouse always wins]”


End file.
